‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. C. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. It did not seem quite fair. "You shall hear," returned Jonathan. But they found him on the veranda when they returned from McClintock's that evening.
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